The Babysitter

I made this piece for a silkscreening class.  It may be hard to tell, but the dots that make up the grayscale are all tiny, hand-drawn hearts (hand cramp).  I was fondly remembering my babysitter Katie, who spent her entire babysitting hours sitting at our kitchen table chain-smoking cigarettes and talking about boyfriends.  I loved Katie.  She was so light-hearted.  And kind.    Soon after, Katie was replaced by her sister Colleen who was kinda mean and scolded me for wetting the bed during my parents' divorce.  Boy did I miss Katie.

Everyone is so creative, except for most people

How hard would it be to get 23 random children to paint? Easy.
How hard would it be to get 23 random adults to paint? Hard.
Imagination is a beautiful thing.
Score: kids 1, grownups 0

Double Agent

It's summer, which for me means taking a vacation from my life as a double agent.  It's not an easy life.  Having two names, two languages (one being English and the other being Potty-mouth),  two sets of costumes, two Facebook pages.  And then there is all the moving, all the back and forth we seem to do every summer.  At one point, I decided to paint those few objects that had made it through all of our moves, such as this bowl.  I thought it would be interesting, revealing, and that I would be documenting the very most precious things in my life.  Then maybe I could stop moving all the time.  Around the sides I painted "Keep me always".  But in the end, it's just a bowl.

Valise Art Show

Truth: While painting this piece, I watched Glee episodes over and over and over (well, more like listened, like Chuck Close used to do with The Price Is Right)

Truth:  "What part of party don't you understand?" is a very good question.

Truth: Discomfort is uncomfortable.

Truth: Most of us do not like to think too hard about art.  We just want a pretty picture for Pete's sake!   Here on this fair island, we feel pretty arty and open-minded as we remain ignorant about the evolution of art since modern times. So, we censor filter out what doesn't fit into our comfort zone.  Out of sight, out of mind.

The truth hurts, baby.

Oh, nuts! #6

If it looks really wet, it's because it is!  If I am lucky, it will dry before I need to turn them in ... tomorrow.

Zen of Cat #3

Oh, Tigger.

It's the Cheese #2

I am starting to get tired of eating cheese, but am willing to make sacrifices for my art.  For this one, I incorporated the box imagery into my painting.  Can you guess today's word?  Hint: it's not "camembert."  (Look below for what the camembert box looks like uncensored)

before

Think Magnetic Poetry #1

Here is, bit by bit, my contribution to an upcoming show on censorship. Valise Gallery/collective is putting on this open-invitation, all-island show (opening May 6^th).

I am making an untitled piece similar to the one in yesterday’s post.  This time I am using camembert boxes (about 4 inches in diameter) to paint/draw on.  Each one will have a word on it, so they can be assembled to make different sentences.  Think "magnetic poetry".

Here is the first of six.

If you can't beat them, annoy them

I left art school for a few years (also known as “dropping out”).  Things at Otis changed a lot in those years, including the addition of stupid, pretentious classes and categories of majors which have since disappeared.  The new trend reminded me of high school, when being “original” was the easiest way to conform (the 552^nd punk rocker isn’t quite as original as the first few, you know what I mean?).  So our junior year drawing class (which had formerly allowed for a very broad definition of drawing) was replaced by an “experimental drawing” class, where you were allowed to do anything except to just draw.  Unless, of course, you were to draw on an unconventional object, like a piece of wood or a band-aid. In other words, it’s okay if your work has no concept, as long as you make it look like it does, by using weird materials (just fake it, boys and girls).   My bologne-o-meter went through the roof. “You mean if I draw on a rock, it’s okay, but if I draw the exact same drawing on paper, it’s not okay?”  “Exactly.”  “You realize you are actually limiting what constitutes drawing, not expanding it, right?”  It was very emperor’s new clothes with everyone embracing it, as if it made sense.  I should have just used invisible materials and saved myself a lot of time and energy.  Instead, I decided to fake compliance while plotting my revenge. 

The project I decided on was a series of 16 drawings on the back of brie boxes, each one representing a word (see above, though I later changed a couple of boxes).  Once assembled, they would create a sentence that was nonsense (which is what I thought of the class, as a whole).  I spent the semester quietly working on my piece, one word at a time, using different styles and mediums for each.  The teacher was glad I had come around and gave me encouragement for my “concept”.  That is, until the last day of class when it was time to display our work and explain our concepts.  I'm sure I didn't say, "this piece is about what nonsense I think this assignment is," but it was something pretty close.  It may not have been the worst grade I ever got but, again, pretty close.

This Lady Is Cool

I love it when people defy the stereotype I have for them.  For example, I think I know that it takes a certain type of person to for a figure drawing class, and that type of person looks a certain way, shall we say "arty" (leaving the artist to wonder, "Do I draw the tattoos too?").  And then in walks this person who looks like she is here for the pta meeting, or maybe a bridge tournament, or Oprah's book club.  I am perplexed.  Intrigued.  And it makes me think "this lady is cool," based on nothing but observation and gross assumptions.  Isn't it fun to sum a person up in one sentence.  And then to pat oneself on the back for being willing to change the adjective.  Cool.

Small Town Studio

The figure drawing studio I've been going to is held at Grange Hall.  It's an old funky building near the ferry dock.  We get there a little early to help set everything up.  The furnace is roaring, blasting in the main room, plus a space heater next to the model stand, and the kitchen stove and oven are turned on for extra oomph (it takes a lot of heat to get a stone cold room up to bikini-comfort warm).  Mostly the same regulars revolve through, both artists and models, and the atmosphere is very friendly.  The models use the restrooms to change into their robes.  The women's restroom is decorated with artwork by a local artist and a sign reading  "If it's yellow let it mellow. Sensative septic system.  Flush infrequently".
After all that, it feels like a shame to draw portraits from the shoulders up instead of complete figures, but that's what I find myself doing first chance I get.  Most of the poses are twenty minutes, so there is only so much ground one can cover, so to speak.  Also, I am trying to get back to a level of drawing that is more about line quality than large areas of contrast.  I don't concern myself with the drawing being a very good likeness, but am finding myself thinking, "Wow, that really does look like her."  So much so, that I hesitate to post them on the internet, for privacy concerns.  But oh well.

Models Are People Too

It is an interesting relationship between the artists and the person taking their robe off in front of those artists.  I always remind myself that Michelangelo put in plenty of time with figure studies.  One young person I explained it to couldn’t make sense of it.  “But they aren’t really naked.”  “Yes they are really naked.”  “But, so, they aren’t real people.”  “Yes they are real people.”  “But they do actually have clothes on.”  “No, they don’t actually have clothes on.”  “So, the people aren’t actually there.” “Yes, they are actually there.”  And so on.

I guess it’s weird, except it’s not.  Most artist models are professional artist models.  Sometimes they walk around during their break to see the drawings, but mostly they don’t.  Sometimes we know their names, and sometimes we don’t.   It can be hard to know how chatty to get with them during breaks.